


feel the party to my bones

by wandasmaximoffs



Series: enjoltaire week 2017 [6]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enjoltaire Week 2016, Fluff, Halloween parties, Like very minor, M/M, Minor Injuries, combeferre is a good bro, enjolras is a nerd but we love him anyway, im sad that exr week is ending yall, theme: fallen angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 17:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandasmaximoffs/pseuds/wandasmaximoffs
Summary: “We won’t laugh at you,” Combeferre cuts in smoothly, pulling the desk chair out and sitting in front of them both, first aid kit in his lap. The music is loud enough that they can still hear it, muffled bass practically making the walls shake. “You need to tell us what happened.”“Oh, Jesus Christ,alright.You two arerelentless.”He groans, lifting his head from Grantaire’s shoulder to allow Combeferre access with his antiseptic wipe. “I fell in the parking lot. Apparently I’m not as good at walking in heels as I’d thought I was.”





	feel the party to my bones

“Hey,” Says Combeferre, as soon as he spots Grantaire letting himself in, “Where’s Enjolras?” 

It takes a minute for him to process the question over the pounding music-- Courfeyrac really has gone all out with the party planning this year. 

The apartment is basically unrecognisable, between the dimmed lights, smoke machines and paper streamers arranged in what Grantaire assumes is supposed to be a giant spider’s web, the place looks more like a haunted house/90’s rave lovechild than an actual apartment. He has to admit, it’s very impressive. 

“He’s on his way!” Grantaire yells over the music, “I was sent on ahead to warn of incoming takeout. You look great, by the way!”

Combeferre, decked out in his homemade and very accurate hummingbird hawk-moth costume, grins in response, and claps Grantaire on the back.

 

(He’d feel a little under-dressed in his “Sexy Devil” outfit-- complete with a red tulle mini-skirt, devil horns and  _ impressively _ high pleather platform boots --were it not for Courfeyrac dancing on a table in his Britney Spears costume.)

“Thanks! You too, man. Bahorel owes me five euros, he was convinced you two would double as Patria and Robespierre, not Robespierre and a wildly inaccurate Satan.”

“Excuse _you,_ I am a _Sexy Devil,_ ” He exclaims, palm flying to his chest in mock offence, “Not an _Inaccurate Satan._ And Enjolras skipped Robespierre this year. We’re _matching._ ” 

“Matching? Enjolras is coming as an Inaccurate Satan too?” Combeferre asks, skeptical. Grantaire laughs, and his expression of dramatic offence melts into a wolfish grin. 

“Nah, you’ll see.”

 

As if on cue, the front door swings open to reveal Enjolras, arms full of plastic bags and looking, in Grantaire’s opinion,  _ stunning. _

“ _ Oh,”  _ Says Combeferre, and yup, that about sums it up. Where Grantaire is in red and black, Enjolras is in white and gold, the devil horns replaced with a gaudy feathered halo and wings. 

On anyone else, it would look ridiculous. Enjolras, of course, somehow manages to look like a Victoria’s Secret model.

The dim lights and thick smoke spewing from the machine keeps him mostly obscured, until he pushes his way through the over-packed apartment and drops the bags heavily on the table besides them. 

“Hi,” He says, breathless, and Grantaire grins the easy grin that comes all too easy when Enjolras is involved, until--

“Holy _ fuck, _ E, what happened?” The grin slides off his face as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with a concerned frown, and for good reason; Enjolras’ left cheekbone is grazed considerably, swelling near his eye, and there’s a little gravel clinging to it. 

 

Before he can question any more, Combeferre has seized Enjolras’ wrist and marched him into his bedroom, Grantaire close on their heels. 

“Sit,” Demands Combeferre, in the process of pulling a first aid kit out of the chest of drawers, and Enjolras obediently takes a seat on the edge of his bed. Grantaire joins him, wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders.

“I’m really fine, there’s no need for you to fuss,  _ both  _ of you,” Mutters Enjolras, who is quickly turning a shade of red that could very much rival Grantaire’s skirt. Grantaire snorts, pushing a stray curl from Enjolras’ face. 

“You’re bleeding, babe, we have a right to fuss. What happened? Did someone hit you?”

Grantaire wouldn’t think it possible, at this point, but Enjolras turns an even brighter shade of red, turning his head to groan into Grantaire’s shoulder.

“No,  _ no, _ honey, nothing like that. No one hit me. It’s-- Oh my God, it’s so embarrassing. You’ll laugh at me.”

“We won’t laugh at you,” Combeferre cuts in smoothly, pulling the desk chair out and sitting in front of them both, first aid kit in his lap. The music is loud enough that they can still hear it, muffled bass practically making the walls shake. “You need to tell us what happened.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,  _ alright.  _ You two are _ relentless. _ ” He groans, lifting his head from Grantaire’s shoulder to allow Combeferre access with his antiseptic wipe, “I fell in the parking lot. Apparently I’m not as good at walking in heels as I’d thought I was.”

He avoids Grantaire’s gaze completely, choosing instead to stare at the clock on the wall behind Combeferre’s head, and it’s probably for the best; He’s spent a good portion of the afternoon assuring Grantaire that  _ he’s an expert at walking in heels, really, probably even better than Grantaire himself, just you wait and see.  _

 

“Oh, babe,” Says Grantaire, pressing a kiss to his temple, “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

Enjolras leans into his touch, wincing as Combeferre removes the last pieces of gravel with the wipe. “Not really. It was so embarrassing, though,” he snorts, “A real  _ fall from grace.” _

“Alright, that’s that taken care of,” Says Combeferre, tidying away the first aid kit as Grantaire chuckles at Enjolras’ pun, “You want some ice for that eye, E? It’s a little swollen, but I guess that’s to be expected when one forgets how to utilise their wings.”

 

“Mm, you’re  _ hilarious,  _ but I think I'm good.  Thanks for cleaning me up, Ferre.”

“Not a problem,” He smiles, “I’m gonna go rejoin the party animals out there. Feel free to just chill until you feel ready to come out, okay?”

Enjolras nods, and Combeferre ducks out with a smile and a quick wave to someone on the other side of the door.

 

“Go on, then,” He sighs, after a few minutes of letting Grantaire play with his hair, “I know you’re dying to say it.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m sure you  _ do. _ Go on, there’s no harm in it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Grantaire grins, permission given, and kisses his boyfriend’s head again. “Hey, Ange, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

**Author's Note:**

> AAAA AND SO COMES THE END OF EXR WEEK!! its been a great week folks, and i somehow managed to crank a fic out every day? unheard of? big thanks to everyone who was involved this week!! i took the theme kind of too literally and not literal enough today i think (also this is kind of e/r/c but only if u squint real hard)
> 
> as is the usual when i post fics im finishing this at 4am and my will to beta left me in a dramatic hurry so PLEASE forgive any mistakes u find
> 
> the usual stuff applies, tip ur fic writers with comments/kudos, and you can come hmu on tumblr @ jehanprouvaiire!


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